


The Inherent Absurdity of Mini-Golf

by 4ntoine



Series: In My Head [2]
Category: TARGET.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ntoine/pseuds/4ntoine
Summary: I take you to mini-golf.





	The Inherent Absurdity of Mini-Golf

The Inherent Absurdity of Mini-Golf  
You're standing really close to me as we watch my friends approach us. I want to tell you to relax and that they aren't gonna bite you, but I decide against it. From what I've gathered, you seem to be a little socially anxious, and I think being closer to me calms you down. So I decide not to make fun of it.  
I greet my dumb friends and introduce you to them. You probably know them tangentially from around campus; college isn't as big as you'd think. You sound a little nervous, which usually manifests in you being quiet. You really shouldn't be. Not around these clowns at least. Half of them are drunk, at least 2 of them are high, and we all lowkey hate the last one. Honestly, you could take his spot in the group if you play your cards right.  
Should I mention we're in the mini golf parking lot? Should I be setting the scene? But why would I need to set the scene, you're standing right next to me.  
We walk up to Ms. Mini Golf Vendor and get our mini golf paraphernalia. Before long, we start playing. My friends are doing a lot better than us. That's fine, though, this game is lame. I'm not bothered.  
Overall though, I think we're having a good time. A great time even. You crack a joke or two under your breath, in between holes (there's a dirty joke in here somewhere, I'm sure), and my friends eat that shit up.  
I should mention that you've been no more than a foot away from me this entire time. From hole to hole (another dirty joke, I think), you've been shadowing me closely. That's fine. I was expecting this actually. But I was hoping you'd eventually assimilate into the group and feel a little more comfortable outside of a 1-foot radius centered on me. Nope. You're actually getting closer.  
I don't know, you seem a little less anxious than you were half-an-hour ago. You talk a little louder, you smile a little more often. I think you're warming up to my friends; the ice seems to have been broken. So then why are you getting closer to me? Wait. I think I get it now. You want to be this close to me. You've wanted to be this close to me all night. And as the night goes on, you get comfortable enough to do what you want. You're a weird kid.  
Slowly but surely, our time on the mini golf grounds (yes, I've been intentionally mis-naming these mini golf terms. The capacity with which I don't care about this game is jaw-dropping, yes, I know) comes to an end. I get the highest score, and for some reason, my friends determine that that means I lose. When God comes down to judge humanity for its sins this whole institution is gonna be her first markup.  
We decide to get frozen yogurt, because there's a frozen yogurt shop within the mini golf perimeter. It doesn't surprise me that the same people who patronize the mini golf industry will also spend their money on frozen yogurt. Okay I need to calm down, I don't know why I'm so upset about mini golf. I'm sorry if I've offended the reader with my lengthy takedown of mini golf. (I'm not, but I'm sorry I made them read all of that.)  
We're all sitting at a table in the frozen yogurt shop, eating frozen yogurt. Of course, you're sitting next to me. My friends are talking about how their final exams went. They're mostly bad students, so we're entertained. They ask you about your research project. You tell them about it, giving them the same 3 sentence summary you give you any layperson who asks about your research. You throw in a joke about the absurdity of combing through particle accelerator data. I laugh a little harder than everyone else, because I know that struggle.  
I can see some of my more observant friends are picking up on something. I think they think we're dating. Are we dating? I don't think so. It doesn't seem like that's what you want, and that's fine by me, I think. But that's not gonna stop them from inquiring.  
“Soooo, D[REDACTED],” my friend Nathan says. “Are you and S[REDACTED] like……a thing?” You look down, embarrassed, and start to blush.  
“No, no, no, ” I answer quickly, also a little embarrassed by the question. I almost add a “He's straight,” but I realize I don't even know that for sure. (And yes, I'm aware that this is the first time I've disclosed your gender (really preferred pronouns (really “pronoun”), but we don't have time to go into gender dynamics right now, sorry) and also, indirectly, my own gender. Should I have made the clearer earlier? I don't know, and mostly, I don't care. Honestly, you should know your own gender; I refuse to take all of the blame.)(No, I'm not sorry about the confusing nested parentheticals. Work it out.)  
“Yeah, okay,” Nathan responds with a disbelieving smile. “Fuck you too, Nathan,” I think.  
Whether or not they believe me, they don't really care enough to push the matter any further. The conversation moves to something else. Another topic is set adrift in the wind. Like the billions of words forgotten and left behind everyday. Or the millions of ideas buried in the sands of time. Nothing is immortal. Everything, always and forever, is subject to decay and erosion. Entropy comes for us all, every person, every star system, every molecule, every abstract construction. The nature of that which exists is to inevitably cease.  
…I really cannot even begin to explain why the hell I just wrote all of that. Is it true? I don't know. Do I believe it? I think so. Is it metal as fuck? Oh definitely.  
The group decides to call it a night, so we go back to our cars. I tell my friends I’ll see them later, and they tell you it was nice to meet you. You turn your head for a second, and you don't notice Nathan nodding and giving me a thumbs up, silently approving of you.  
As we get into my car, you tell a joke about the frozen yogurt that was funnier than it had any right to be. I drive us home. I had a good night. I really like you.


End file.
